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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816356">Beautiful Stranger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye'>The_lazy_eye</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Be Still, Young Heart [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blend of AWAE and AOGG, F/M, Family Dinners, Healing, Important Conversations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:34:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But recovery is a long process. There are still many wounds left to heal. Wounds that a kiss and bandage cannot mend alone.</p><p>This is him asking for what he needs instead of holding his tongue and stumbling in the dark. He’s so tired of the dark. It’s time to step into the light.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Be Still, Young Heart [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>155</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beautiful Stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He spends about another week on bedrest, in and out of sleep and slowly regaining his strength. The only people pass through room are Dr. Ward, Hazel, and Bash. Everyone else has been barred from entry and Gilbert finds himself a little glad. Those first days are difficult. When he’s not sleeping, he’s trying to keep a steady grip on his reality. He’s not as deep in it anymore, but he still hears people calling out to him. He still sees faces from behind his eyelids, hears voices that he knows he tries to answer in his sleep.</p><p>Bash is a steady presence by his side, telling him stories of all that he’s missed in Avonlea. Rachel Lynde has been living with Marilla since the passing of her own husband, so Bash finds himself privier to gossip than he’s ever been. And so, the stories go: Diana has become pregnant and is due late in the autumn; Jane Andrews has married and moved to Winnipeg, leaving the Andrews family behind; Miss Stacy continues to baffle townsfolk with her trousers and forward thinking. Several of his old school chums have married, some have left Avonlea entirely. And Gilbert himself is recovering from a nasty bout of typhoid fever that almost ended his life.</p><p>And <em>Anne.</em></p><p>Well, Anne and her ragtag group of friends have graduated from Redmond and returned home. Anne has secured a position teaching at the Avonlea school. He’s proud of her. She’s worked so hard for her accomplishments and she deserves every success she attains.</p><p>He also received word from the University of Toronto. More specifically, he received a letter from Dr. Oak informing him of his temporary leave of absence. It appears that Ms. Stacy wrote to the school immediately and informed them of the situation. Upon his recovery, he is welcome to return and continue his studies. Accommodations have been made to ensure his examinations are completed.</p><p>Should he choose to return.</p><p>He thinks about it in those days following the letter. Does he really want to go back? Is the life of medicine the one for him? It’s possible that this was a sign for him to find another calling. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s encountered doubts.  </p><p>When he gets right down to it, though, he can’t picture himself doing much else with his life. His own experience with illness will only serve as fodder for his passion.</p><p>He’ll go back. He’ll chase his dream. Just, maybe he’ll be a bit smarter about it. Maybe he’ll be wiser in for it all. He cannot pour from a glass half empty, let alone a glass that has been spilt entirely.</p><p>The first time he’s allowed outside is the day he thinks his recovery truly begins. He’s only allowed to sit on the cement step outside his front door under the careful eye of Hazel, but he stays out there for hours. It takes Bash nearly pleading with him to get him to come back inside.</p><p>“Blythe, I know you’re feelin’ better but you’ve got to listen to me. You’ll fall ill again if you don’t take it easy.”</p><p> The land before him looks healthy, begging to be walked as soon as he’s able. He’s got half a mind to try but when Bash helps him up he can feel the exhaustion creeping in.</p><p>“Come inside, now.” Bash settles a heavy hand on Gilbert’s shoulder, one that doesn’t give him much of a choice in the matter.</p><p>He sighs and lets his brother lead him inside.</p><p>They settle at the table as Hazel works around them. Whatever she’s making, Gilbert knows he’s going to enjoy. The kitchen smells both familiar and new at the same time. He can’t remember the last time he sat and had a home cooked meal made by someone he loves. The food in Toronto is good, but it doesn’t satiate him the way home does. It doesn’t anchor him to the moment.</p><p>Not even a moment after he settles down, Delphine comes barreling into the kitchen.</p><p>“Uncle Gilby!” She shouts, making a dash straight for him before being intercepted by her father. “Uncle Gilby’s downstairs! Are you eating dinner with us?”</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart, I am,” He smiles. He hasn’t been able to see her much, spending more of his time quarantined in his room and being fed by either Hazel and Bash. They’ve talked a little bit through the door, her perched on one side of the room and him sitting in his bed. She would come by and tell him about her day, shouting through the wood. He would tell her about the dreams he had while sleeping and all the dreams he wants to chase now that he’s awake.</p><p>She beams over at him, wiggling in Bash’s arm. “I’ve missed you! Hazel’s making stew tonight, do you still like stew? What kinds of foods have you eaten at school? Do you eat at all? Daddy says I have to eat my dinner to grow up big and strong, but you don’t look so big and strong, Gilby. I bet –”</p><p>“Alright, honey!” Bash cuts in, giving his daughter a pointed look before glancing over at Gilbert. “That’s enough, let’s sit down and get ready for dinner, yeah? Gotta wash our hands and say our prayers. Then we can talk to <em>Uncle Gilby</em> all we want.”</p><p>“Okay!” And then she’s gone, wigging out of Bash’s arms and running over to the sink where Hazel helps her get washed up. Bash moves around them to grab their dinner and bring it to the table.</p><p>Elijah comes in a moment later and then they come together as a family; a well-functioning unit. Hazel serves each of them their dishes and Bash passes fresh rolls down the table.</p><p>“Daddy?” Delphine asks from her seat next to Gilbert, pulled up extra close at her insistence. “Can I say the prayers tonight?”</p><p>After a quick glance at Hazel, then another at Gilbert, Bash nods.</p><p>“Dear God, thank you for blessing us with this meal,” She starts, repeating the standard lines she’s been hearing her entire life. Gilbert can’t help the smile that creeps onto his lips. Has he ever heard his niece pray before? It’s not something he’s ever thought much about, but now he can’t stop thinking about it. Is it normal? How many times has he missed her little voice filling every inch of this kitchen, this house?</p><p>“Thank you for bringing uncle Gilby home, too, and keeping him safe. Daddy and Gammy Hazel were real worried about him, but you saved him. Oh! And can you tell Mommy I said thank you, too? I heard him talking to her and I know she helped save him because she’s an angel now and that’s what angels are supposed to do.”</p><p>Gilbert feels Bash grip his hand tighter and it’s such a contradiction to how softly Delphine continues to hold his other hand.</p><p>“Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for everything. For the food, for Uncle Gilby, and for the plum puffs M’illa brought this morning! They were so tasty. Oh, and for –”</p><p>“Delphine,” Hazel warns.</p><p>“Sorry! Thank you and amen!”</p><p>They all follow with soft <em>amens</em> but Gilbert doesn’t open his eyes. Not yet. Nor does he let go of the hands he’s holding. It’s been a long few weeks and a longer few years but he’s <em>home</em> now. Comfort washes over him like the tide, cleansing and fresh. For humility, it throws a little salt in the wound. He’s been gone – almost left forever – and now he’s making up for lost time. But to know how loved he is? To see it in the flesh at his own dining table? To <em>feel</em> it in his hands? That is a balm that would soothe any open wound.</p><p>They eat dinner quietly. And if anyone notices the stray tear or two that slip down his cheeks, no one says a word.</p><p>As time presses on, he gets stronger. He starts helping around the house, little things like doing the dishes and sweeping up the living room, much to the frustration of Hazel. More than once, he’d been caught cleaning up a mess Delphine had made only to be shooed away and scolded.</p><p>And now he faces her wrath yet again, arms elbow deep in the dirty sink.</p><p>“Mr. Blythe, you’re going to work yourself into an early grave! My son did not bring me here to let some <em>boy</em> clean up after me. Now, go. I’m sure you’ve got something better to occupy yourself with.”</p><p>Gilbert can’t help the way he chuckles at her words. They’ve grown closer over the years, Hazel finally finding comfort in the humble farm her son owned. It took time to build the trust, months of eggshells and a careful tongue; and then even more months of genuine letters addressed to Hazel specifically, asking after her and wishing her well. He’d gotten through, though, and now he feels the playful end of a wooden spoon as she kicks him out of the kitchen, soapy hands leaving a trail of water to follow.</p><p>“Alright, alright!” He laughs. Her eyes betray her stern expression. “I guess I’ll just go find someone else to bother.”</p><p>Elijah has gone out to town to fetch some supplies for the farm and Delphine was picked up by the Cuthberts sometime early in the morning, so Gilbert has little options to occupy his time. Good thing he’s more than happy to follow the hum of <em>Haul Away Joe</em> all the way out to the barn.</p><p>“Mr. Lacroix,” He greets, setting up post on a comfortable pile of hay. He’s winded from the walk, gentle aches sitting in the unused muscles of his thighs and calves, but it’s a good feeling. It’s nice to be out of the house, to be moving with such freedom. He knows he needs to regain his strength at some point. Wasting away in that bed won’t do much for him.</p><p>“Come to give an old farmer a hand?” Bash asks, whipping the sweat from his brow. He’s tinkering with an old piece of machinery, tools in one hand and oil all over the other.</p><p>“I wish I could, but I’m still on partial bed rest. Doctor’s orders.”</p><p>“Useless to me,” Bash mutters, but he’s got a hint of a smile. “So, what? Come all the way out here just to annoy me?”</p><p>Gilbert’s cheeky grin answers for him. Bash only shakes his head, pouring most of his attention back into the machine and hardly dignifying Gilbert with a single look. “C’mon! I’m bored and I’m finally starting to feel like my old self, again. Can’t I want to spend some quality time with my brother?”</p><p>“I ain’t kicking you out. Stay all you want,” Bash says, so Gilbert does. He makes himself comfortable on his hay pile and allows himself to take in the summer smells. The whole barn smells like Earth. The dirt settles on every inch of ground, the oil permeates the air, and the fresh cut grass outside seeps in and mixes together to create something Gilbert has always loved. There’s something comforting warm about the smell of the Earth, like it’s rooting him down to something solid.</p><p>Outside he can hear the clicking of the bugs, another thing he never realized he missed in Toronto. Every moment home feels like a reconnection. He needed this more than he’ll ever be able to understand.</p><p>“You know,” Bash starts, pulling him from his thoughts. “It’s good to see you up and movin’.”</p><p>“It feels good to be moving,” Gilbert replies. “I swear, sometimes I felt so awful I didn’t think I’d ever stand again.”</p><p>It’s true. The first week after waking up, Gilbert was so weak and tired. He found it hard to ever imagine a life where he didn’t feel like sinking into his bed and disappearing. The mere thought of standing up was enough to send his head lolling to the side. Being out in the barn right now is a miracle, one he intends to take full advantage of.</p><p>He gets swept back up into his thoughts, hardly even noticing the way Bash has gone silent. No humming, no tinkering, no speaking.</p><p>“Blythe,” Bash says after a moment. It’s only once the silence is filled that Gilbert realizes the air was thick with tension. Bash stands and makes his way over to the pile, a serious look on his face. He’s only seen that look a few times. Once he settles, he speaks again. “No one was sure if you’d make it out. You were just layin’ there, all pale and small on that big ol’ bed of yours. Sweatin’ up a storm. You looked so… you looked like…”</p><p>He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Gilbert knows who he’s talking about. Her presence hangs heavy above them. Sometimes, it feels like she’s haunting him. He used to feel her over his shoulder in school, out in the city. He felt her press into the back of his head, a warning of something he couldn’t identify back then. Now he knows she was warning him of <em>this</em>. Of the cruel fate he was marching toward. Now, though, it feels more watchful; <em>warmer</em>. Now, he doesn’t feel like he needs to run away.</p><p>“I thought you were – I mean we all thought it was,” Bash starts and stops several times, looking for the right words. Gilbert can hear the strain in his voice, the kind that burns in the back of your eyes but never quite spills out. “You were just so <em>small</em>, Blythe. In all my years knowin’ you, I never once saw you look like that.”</p><p>“I know, Bash,” He says, reaching a careful hand out to cover his brother’s.</p><p>“There was a point, when it was at its worst,” Bash continues, “where everyone came to say goodbye to you. We thought it would be the only chance we got. I pray you never scare me like that again.”</p><p>“I pray I never have to.”</p><p>They stay there until the sun sets and the summer air begins to chill. They see a flash of red and here the boisterous voice of a little girl coming home from a long day with her favorite neighbors. It’s time to go inside.</p><p>Anne shows up more after that. Her shadow in his home becomes a little more frequent. Gilbert will wander downstairs and find her cooking with Hazel or reading to Delphine. Sometimes, her and Jerry are out in the orchard picking apples. Sometimes, she’s simply just <em>there</em>.</p><p>The first time he sees her face to face, he’s out of bed and sitting at the kitchen table. She damn near barrels him over in her excitement, ignoring the scolding she gets from Marilla. They’ve simply stopped by to deliver bread and jelly to the household and it’s clear by both of their reactions that they didn’t expect him to be out of bed.</p><p>Once Anne has righted herself and smoothed the layers of skirt back down, she beams over at him and shouts, “I can’t believe you’re up and about! Dr. Ward never mentioned you’d recover so quick. Marilla, can you believe it? I feel like my own eyes are deceiving me, like maybe <em>I’ve</em> fallen ill with fever and now I’m seeing fanciful visions before my eyes.”</p><p>“Enough, child,” Marilla reproaches, but Gilbert can see the fond look on her face. “It’s nice to see you looking so robust, Gilbert. How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Quite well, Miss Cuthbert, thank you for asking,” He smiles, sneaking another quick glance to Anne. “You’re both looking lovely today.”</p><p>“Hush, you,” Marilla says. She moves to the counter, pulling the items out of both hers and Anne’s basket. Anne herself doesn’t move. She just continues looking at him as if he’s been brought out of a storybook. He supposes maybe he has, what with all the commotion around his sickness. When he woke up, he never really thought about how everyone else might react. He knew they’d be happy, but between his conversation in the barn and the way Anne is looking at him now, he understands that it reaches deeper than just getting better.</p><p>They leave shortly after, but Anne comes back the next day. And the next. He thought maybe seeing her would be difficult but it isn’t. She belongs in his life. For better or for worse, they’re family. They don’t need to wed for that to be any less true.</p><p>Anne will always be Delphine favorite aunt, she will always be Bash’s feisty sister. She will always be welcome in the Blythe-Lacroix home. Always, always, always.</p><p>Still, there are thousands of words that go unpassed between them. Little moments in the kitchen or on the front doorstep where Gilbert knows he needs to say something but doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to apologize for his behavior, but he must. The air is thick between them, thicker when they’re alone. It won’t be much longer before something breaks and he’s desperate to avoid that.</p><p>He finds her in the Orchard one afternoon, all red hair and sunshine. She looks so peaceful on that ladder. No intricate dress or hairstyle, just Anne in her most relaxed state. Her hair is tied back into a simple, single braid and her outfit is one of her more casual dresses, well suited for farm work. From her place at the top of the ladder, she looks like a Goddess.</p><p>“Anne,” He calls out when he’s close enough. “May I speak with you, please?”</p><p>Once she’s down from the ladder, she smiles warmly at him. “Hello, Gil. I was just checking up on your lovely apple trees.”</p><p>“I’m sure the view from up there lends much more scope for the imagination,” He teases. Her smile only grows bigger. “Care for a stroll down the lane?”</p><p>“I wish I could, but I’m taking Phil Gordon down to Diana’s house for the evening. It’ll be the first time they’re formally meeting and I’m thrilled to introduce my best bosom friend to such a wonderful kindred spirit.”</p><p>It’s a name Gilbert doesn’t recognize, but he’s sure there are a lot of those floating around. It’s another reminder of the time he’s missed – of all that he wants to make up. Who has his Anne become? Surely, a woman of adventure and wit.</p><p>He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face, but it must because she’s quick to follow up with, “How about I walk you across the pond? It’s a fine summer afternoon, I’d hate to waste it.”</p><p>Together, they make their way out of the orchard, trailing along the neck of the woods until they come to the Lake of Shining Waters. It glistens now as it had every day of their childhood. This old bridge is permeated with countless memories. Some involve him by himself, others involve him with friends chasing each other across the wooden planks. One fond memory sits beneath it in the cold water. A sopping wet girl, an arrogant boy, and a lucky little rowboat.</p><p>They come to stop in the center of the arch, both looking out over the waters.</p><p>“I was really afraid for you, Gil.” Her voice is soft, almost carried away by the wind. Still, he hears her. “At least, until we heard you were over the worst of it.”</p><p>“I was lucky, I suppose,” He hums. Luck played a part in it, that he truly believes. But deep inside he knows there was more to it. Luck determined just how bad his illness got but <em>he</em> determined whether or not he was going to kneel. “I guess I just made up my mind I wasn’t going to let it lick me.”</p><p>“I’m sure glad you didn’t,” Anne says. “I’m not quite sure what any of us would have done without you. Myself included. We were all so worried for you.”</p><p>“Well, there’s no need to worry now.”</p><p>“You’ve made such a miraculous recovery. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to school, though.”</p><p>“I am, in a way. It’s been nice being home, seeing everyone again. I’m thankful for the time I’m getting right now and I intend to take advantage of it. Say, how were your years as Redmond?” He asks, “I’ve heard you secured a spot teaching in Avonlea, congratulations.”</p><p>She beams at him, bright blue-grey eyes catching in the sunlight and almost sending him out to sea with their beauty. “I’ve done so much learning in the past few years. Learning I fear I might not have done with you by my side.”</p><p>“And what do you mean by that, Anne?” He says. There’s something too genuine in the sound of her voice for him to pay any mind to the sting her words bring. He’s learned a lot from her absence, as well.</p><p>“School has taught me plenty, but I mean that there are things that we learn outside of school. Things we can only learn from living life. And, well, I’ve learned that sometimes people have to fall apart to fall back together. We cannot know the heights of our highs without knowing the depths of despair. Miss Stacy told me something similar once. I thought I understood her then, and I guess in some way I did. But I understand it even better now.”</p><p>He gives an appreciative hum, letting her words roll around inside his mind. Sure, this wasn’t what he wanted for them, but she seems to have a point. Having her around the last few days, talking with her and laughing, it’s felt more natural than anything he’s known for quite a while.</p><p>He’d become complacent in the life he thought he was building. He’s still got a long way to go but he’ll no longer just be Gilbert Blythe, suffering medical student. Soon, he’ll be Gilbert Blythe, doctor and scholar. Maybe even Gilbert Blythe, risk taker and fun haver. Gilbert Blythe, <em>lover</em>.</p><p>“I think I understand,” He says.</p><p>They stand together in silence for a moment, simply taking in the summer around them. He’s grateful for her company. There are a great many things he wants to blurt out to her. He wants to talk about everything they’ve missed – all the great adventures she’s had in school and all the fascinating things he’s studied. Maybe he could tell her about his dreams and how he’s seen Mary in the clouds, smiling down on him. If anyone would understand, it’d be her. He could tell her about his mother and her hazel eyes, her warm voice. Or possibly they could talk about Delphine and how big she’s grown. Anne is so well with her, always laughing and feeding her imagination. It’s a sight he could watch all day and he’s sure Anne would take any opportunity to talk about their beloved five-year-old.</p><p>He says none of these things.</p><p>Instead, he says, “Congratulations on your engagement,” because it’s the right thing to say. He’s forgiven her for the past. It is not her fault for not loving him. It is not her fault he pushed her away. The look she gives him seeks no happiness or gratefulness. She looks confused. “Or, well, your impending engagement. I know well of Mr. Gardner – Moody told me about him in his letters. You’re the talk of the town you know, if you’re not engaged yet I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”</p><p>He pauses, giving her space to prattle on about her beau while at the same time steeling himself for the dull aching in his chest to return. It may still hurt but he’s determined to push past it – to have Anne in his life in whatever way he can. She is a kindred spirit and he was foolish to let her go once. He won’t make the same mistake twice.</p><p>When she doesn’t answer, he casts a curious look at her. “What is it? Have I said something wrong?”</p><p>She looks confused, borderline distraught. Her eyebrows are drawn tight and her lips are pressed into a thin line. It’s the same look she used to get in school. He’s seen it accompanied by many geometry questions but there are no slates in front of them. No fickle numbers or shapes that need studying. There is only the bright, clear water of the lake and the confusing beginning of a resurrected friendship.</p><p>“Gilbert,” She starts, but he cuts her off. He can feel her words in the space between them, perhaps an apology or an admonishment on how improper it might be for a former love to speak of current romance. He won’t hear of it. They’ve never been traditional and there is no use in starting now.</p><p>“If I may please be so bold, Anne. I know this may be difficult and awkward, but I’m not willing to see our friendship suffer any longer. Royal seems wonderful from what I saw of him and I hope one day I may meet his acquaintance –”</p><p>“Gil, you almost died!”</p><p>He stops speaking almost instantly and the silence crests and bays for a moment.</p><p>“You laid in that bed for weeks. I saw you – when you fell. I was there, Gil, we all were. You went down like a sack of flour and you stayed down. When your eyes closed I thought they might never open again.” Her voice cracks, but it doesn’t stop her. She pushes through the strain. “And I couldn’t help but think of all the foolish things I’ve said and done. I thought I’d never see you again.”</p><p>“But I’m here,” He whispers, so gentle as to not startle her. “And we can be friends again. <em>Real</em> friends.”</p><p>“You must know,” She says, voice quiet as a mouse but with more passion than he’s ever heard it, “How long this journey has been.”</p><p>“It has been quite long,” He agrees, eager to contribute but not so much as to derail her train of thought.</p><p>“So long I wasn’t sure it’d ever end. I would wake up some mornings and ask myself, <em>oh, Anne, how did you get here</em>, but I’d never get any answer in return. You were my best friend, Gil, and I went and threw it all away.” Her voice cracks with something mournful and he finds himself wanting to soothe the pain away. These are the very things that must be addressed. The baggage of the past cannot remain packed away and unspoken.</p><p>“Not all is lost,” He says. “We still have our whole lives and I intend to make the most of it.”</p><p>She smiles sadly at him. <em>It’ll take time.</em></p><p>He chooses to shift the conversation back to his original topic. If he is going to be involved in her life, he wants to be involved in all parts. “So, tell me about the wedding. Will you wed in Charlottetown or Avonlea? I imagine Mr. Gardener would want to be close to home, but so might you.”</p><p>“Gil,” She says softly, eyes focused out on the water before them. “There won’t <em>be</em> a wedding,”</p><p>He’s stunned for a moment, glancing at where her hands grip the railing of the bridge and then following her gaze out. The water ripples gently with the wind. “Of course there will. You’re the talk of the town, Anne! Anyone would be lucky to have your hand in marriage.” </p><p>He expects maybe she’ll talk of her childhood insecurities. The ones where she declares herself unfit to be a wife, the ones where she sees herself as less than she is. He had hoped she’d grown out of those childish feelings. But perhaps, like him, these things linger until they’re forced to be dealt with.</p><p>He doesn’t, however, expect her actual response.</p><p>“I said no.”</p><p>Her words hardly make any sense to him. They’re familiar, yet unrecognizable in his ears. Another man, another proposal. Another rejection.</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>“To Roy,” She says gently. Then firmer, “He asked for my hand. I said no.”</p><p>“Anne, I don’t understand.” Maybe the fever took a greater toll on his mind than he initially thought. Maybe she had meant what she said all those years ago.  </p><p>“I went looking for my dreams outside of myself and discovered, it's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it.” She steps closer then, taking his large hand in her own. Her skin is soft and warm where Gilbert’s is cold and clammy. That wistful touch alone sends something into the very veins of his breath. It laces deep and true into his heart, a spark kickstarted. “Roy Gardener wasn’t my dream. When I closed my eyes at night, I saw a beautiful house by the sea, a little one with white paint and blue shingles. There was a dog, or maybe a cat, and the little footsteps of children. But Roy wasn’t there. No matter how much I dreamed or how many times I tried to trick myself.</p><p>“If it was him, my dreams would have been fancy mansions and expensive linen. I would never get to teach or write or have grand, reckless adventures. I’d have to be prim and proper and a wife.” He feels the way she brings his hand up to her face, molding it around her cheek so he can hold her close. It reminds him of a younger couple who once stood on the empty sidewalks of Charlottetown. “I want someone with whom I could be myself. We would be equal partners in life and in love, matched in intellect. <em>Friends</em> of heart. Gilbert, when I closed my eyes it was always you in that house. With me and our children and our friends.”</p><p>He lets his eyes close as he nuzzles into her touch. Her hand brushes up and into the hair just behind his ear and he sighs at the feeling. There’s something overwhelming budding up inside of his chest, something screaming at him to jump and shout for joy. His eyes burn for the thousandth time since his recovery began and he knows it’s okay to let himself cry. These are happy tears. The kind that comes out one by one and makes you feel so incredibly blessed.</p><p>His recovery hits him two-fold. All of the effort he’s been pouring into his studies – into running away – has been redirected into himself. And now Anne stands before him, declaring the very thing he’s hoped against hope for. It’s surreal, and yet calm.</p><p>But recovery is a long process. There are still many wounds left to heal. Wounds that a kiss and bandage cannot mend alone.</p><p>“Anne, please listen to what I’m about to tell you.” He gathers her hands back into his own, a mirror image to her confession. Small fingers curl around his and into his palm, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I meant what I said before, I value our friendship more than anything else. You are important to me, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, and I am not willing to risk or throw this away.”</p><p>Her eyes go wide at his words and he knows what she’s thinking. But this isn’t that. This isn’t her being cast away and forgotten. This is him asking for what he needs instead of holding his tongue and stumbling in the dark. He’s so tired of the dark. It’s time to step into the light.</p><p>“I love you. I have loved you with every breath I’ve ever taken and every beat of my working heart. Even in these missing years, never once did I stop loving you. If you’ll let me, I want to go on loving you for the rest of my life, but I must ask something of you first.”</p><p>She isn’t crying, but it looks like she might.</p><p>“It’ll be three more years before I’m done medical school. I’d like to use that time and court you properly. My beautiful stranger, we’ve both changed so much. I want the opportunity to know you again. I want to write to you and read from you; I want to walk and speak and laugh with you. I want to argue and debate and learn. I don’t want to do that with the pressure and expectation of marriage heavy on our heads. Can we please, Anne-girl, simply take our time?”</p><p>Her voice is nothing but a wet little whisper, “Time doesn’t matter to me, so long as I have you.”</p><p>“Even then, there won’t be any sunbursts or marble halls.”</p><p>He has to know if he is what she really wants. A humble doctor-to-be on the precipice of the rest of his life. It won’t be much, his little life, but he wants it. And if she’ll have him, he wants her there in any way she’s willing to be.</p><p>Oh, how he <em>wants. </em> </p><p>Now, she’s really crying. Little, gasping hiccoughs as she tightens her grip on his hands. “I don’t want sunbursts or marble halls. I just want <em>you.</em>”</p><p>There isn’t a moment of hesitation before he captures her lips with his own. The kiss they share is salty, but he swears he’s never tasted something so sweet. It feels like the last cog in a machine finally clicking into place.</p><p>It feels like coming home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my god what are timelines I did not think this through at all. Most of the time I spent writing this was trying to make it all make sense. I really wish I thought this out thoroughly from the beginning and planned it all, but I didn’t and there’s no going back. So I really hope the timeline of events is making sense. It might not be, who knows. I don’t know. I’m sorry lmao</p><p>I’m gonna be so real, I lifted a lot of dialogue from the AOGG movies and the book. I found some PDFs online of the second proposal chapter and went through it with a fine toothed comb so I could capture the book, the movies, and the show all in this single fic. I don’t know if I did it justice, but I am wildly proud of those confessions. I worked on them for days, I wanted them to be just right. Yes, so much of the credit goes to LMM and the script writers, but there was something so fun and so satisfying about bringing those three source materials together and then merging them with the universe I’ve been building. I’m happy with the final result and I really, really hope you guys are, too!</p><p>We’re finally here, though! The love confessions! The happy ever after! The angst without a happy ending actually gets a happy ending! I’m just as surprised as you guys are. Seriously, though, thank you for being on this journey with me. I’m really thankful for all the kind words you all have given me, and all the encouragement this story has gotten. I’m potentially toying around with an epilogue (I have several idea - some are……. Probably not ideal and would propel the story a few more parts. Some are rather fluffy. Will either of them happen? Who knows. Not me), so this story will be marked as complete for now but there MAY be more in the future. Don’t bank on it, though. Inspiration is a fickle bitch. </p><p>Seriously, though, thank you all so much for taking this journey with me. I have had so much fun writing this universe and it’s been a blast to read everyone’s reactions. It was challenging and fulfilling in so many ways. I can’t express my appreciation well enough.</p><p>If you want to chat about this story, other stories, or anything in general I can be found @ thelazyeye.tumblr.com!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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